


The illusion which exalts us

by phisen



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: 5+1 Things, Awkwardness, Comedy, M/M, Sexual Mishaps, Smut, it's really awkward
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-11
Updated: 2018-04-23
Packaged: 2019-04-21 05:03:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,944
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14277489
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phisen/pseuds/phisen
Summary: Five times Yuuri and Victor experienced awkward sexual mishaps and the one time they got it all right.





	1. The fives

**Author's Note:**

> A fun little project, at least to me xD 
> 
> This will be published in two parts, with the so called "fives" as one chapter and the "+1" in a chapter which I plan to publish next week. Some of the scenarios are self-experienced, some are made up, some have, uh... been told to me by friends. There's always that "friend", right?
> 
> The title comes from Aleksandr Pushkin's _The Hero II. "The illusion which exalts us is dearer to us than ten thousand truths."_
> 
> Enjoy :) xoxo

 

* * *

**: I :**

It was bliss, in every sense of the word. His heart racing, beating violently in his chest and threatening to break through its confinement of flesh and blood. Their bodies, slippery against each other and scorching to the touch. That smell, that tangy smell, salty with that metallic undertone, the result of their mutual efforts. And, oh, the swirly euphoria he needed to stay in, ride its wave for just a little while longer.

And just like that, his insides started to fizz. Feeling Yuuri's lips against his, against the side of his neck, against his jaw, it started to bubble, only to break out in a giggle. One that made Yuuri catch on, one that started them both to build but in a different context.

Not before long, hands were tangled in the hair of the other. Their mouths gasping for air, just a little further apart than before. Their bodies rocking together in an uneven rhythm.

"Wow," Victor gasped between the laughs, "Yuuri… That was so good. So good, love."

"I just wanted to try it once," Yuuri said, his face buried against the groove of Victor's neck while huffing hot exhales. "I knew you'd like that."

"I  _loved_ it. Loved it. The way you just put―"

"No, no, no, stop! I'm glad you liked it but I… kind of..."

"But, Yuuri," Victor whined, "I want to talk to you about it! Why you did that, why the ice cream and what made you lick my―"

Victor became interrupted when Yuuri broke free from his embrace, when Yuuri sat up and straddled his hips, putting a hand over his mouth.

"Not now. Let me take a shower, okay? Then… we  _might_ …"

Victor felt that surge again, that small ember that hungered for just a little more kindling in order to light the flame. Feeling Yuuri against him, creating friction in a way that had no other intention than to tease, made him dig his fingers into Yuuri's thigh.

"You're killing me, love. Don't play games."

Watching Yuuri arch his back made Victor bite his lower lip in order to regain some wayward control. Feeling Yuuri grind against him, putting his hands over his head, made Victor shudder as his efforts were tested. Seeing how Yuuri pushed his hair back made Victor moan, relinquishing it completely.

"I'll be back," Yuuri said, a definite promise as he slid off of Victor, with nothing but a glance being cast over his shoulder before he disappeared.

Victor put his hands behind his head and stayed still, held his breath and listened to Yuuri's footsteps, how he opened the bathroom door, and how he finally turned on the shower. Then, Victor exhaled. And with that exhale came a relaxation that led to him closing his eyes, visiting their moment together, watching it again as if he was a voyeur, shamelessly taking part in the act in his own way. Needing the sight of naked skin, open mouths, heads thrown back, again and again in order to…

He must have dozed off, because the sensation surprised him. The sensation of Yuuri's tongue, warm against one of his nipples. How it lapped, teased and purposefully slid over his naked skin, leaving an evaporating heat. An unbelievable tingle multiplying inside him, making his hairs stand on end.

"Oh," Victor exhaled, revelling in the feeling with his eyes closed, his hands still above his head, nothing but taking. "You're not kidding, huh? You're so good to me. So good, Yuuri…"

Victor considered reaching down, to put his fingers in Yuuri's hair and give it a slight pull or, maybe, close his hand around himself to get himself slightly harder, slightly more on the edge, but decided against it. He wanted Yuuri to take command, just like before.

So he breathed through it, breathed through the experience of Yuuri's tongue on him. Rousing him wordlessly

"Nhg… Oh, honey… I love you, just… yeah, like that. Lick me clean, okay?"

The sound, coming from across the room, made him open his eyes.

The surprise made him blanch for in his aroused and muddled state, he couldn't make the pieces fit. Why Yuuri was looking at him, standing naked and wet from his shower in the opening of the door. Not licking his chest with something Victor had thought to be unbridled passion.

So he looked to his left, just the smallest glance, and was met by black eyes and a wet nose. Naturally, his head whipped back within the second.

"Yu-Yuuri! This… Th-this isn't what it looks like!"

"I… I, um,  _eeto_ …" Yuuri flushed, mumbling. Looking at nothing but the floor as he silently closed the door. Leaving Victor with not only a dwindling arousal but also, quite a lot to explain.

* * *

**: II :**

They had been playing the game for what the both of them thought to be the longest time. And they had no intention on stopping.

It started at home with subtle moves, with caresses and hands lingering just a little too long in places that ignite. With soft words spoken against the other's lips, with looks undressing and smiles devouring what had been mentally bared. With unspoken promises and badly disguised desires.

It continued. Naturally. With Victor, his breath hot against Yuuri's neck. His lips brushing the skin behind Yuuri's ear, humming low and appreciative whilst pulling out his chair. His hand, skimming across Yuuri's ass as Yuuri sat down.

It accelerated. As expected. With Yuuri, his feet sliding across the inside of Victor's thigh underneath the table, shortly thereafter. Looking to the side, pretending to observe the people around them whilst executing the smallest push while being concealed by the tablecloth.

It combusted. Obviously. Made them act inappropriately to others but in love to them, being nothing but hands adding pressure, mouths swallowing sighs and moans, eyes taking the other in on the outside whilst seeing something else entirely on the inside. In the back of the taxi, through the lobby of the hotel, in the lift on the way up. Against the walls of the never ending corridor of their floor and finally,  _finally_ , inside their room.

They were nothing but animals by then, taken with the magnetism of the other. Constantly returning to the few glimpses of visible skin, fighting relentlessly to reveal more. Tearing into each other, fighting buttons and zippers underneath layers and layers of fabric but barely succeeding.

"You want to, huh? Tell me how," Victor moaned, battling Yuuri's trousers with his hands.

"Yes, yes! I, no, let… let me come inside," Yuuri responded, trying to tear Victor's shirt off his back.

They became almost out of breath, alternately stealing it from the other without thinking twice. Being nothing but a writhing mass of arms and legs, backing up towards the bed with one of them losing his patience considerably.

"Fuck the clothes, baby. Just, just take it out. Take it out!"

"Co-condom then, Vitya? Do we need―"

"No, just let… let me lube you up," Victor growled, sounding like he already was in the middle of what was to come. "Let me get…"

Victor ended up with his back on the bed with Yuuri on top, and did somewhat of a feeble attempt of reaching for the coveted bottle but… he had to get closer. So, he moved with Yuuri still stuck to him. To his mouth, to his hair, but annoyingly not close enough to being stuck further down where his excitement was beginning to become unbearable.

"Yuuri," Victor panted between the kisses, kisses that sucked his mouth dry, "I need to… let me just reach..."

Victor started to pat down the nightstand, if possible even more determined than before, and palmed the bottle as soon as his fingers got in contact with it.

It became chaos after that, of hands actually undoing buttons, zippers and belts. Of trousers not even making it below their knees and underwear being pulled down, just enough.

They stopped in that moment, it was probably just for a second, and looked at each other.

Yuuri, on top of Victor. Glasses lost on the way to the bed, shirt poorly unbuttoned, with tousled hair. With his boxers low enough to show his erection, his eagerness illustrated by its glistening tip. Breathing through his mouth with his fingers turned into claws against Victor's chest.

Victor, looking up at Yuuri. Blue eyes wide in anticipation, shirt almost lost except for a hand still stuck to one of the cuffs, his tie still on. His stomach heaving, almost making him come by the friction created. His fist, clenching the bottle tight.

"Shall… shall I put it on you?" Victor breathed, his voice sounding like an alarm in the now pressing quiet.

"Y-yeah. Then, you turn around and I'll… put some inside you."

Victor got lost in watching Yuuri reveal himself entirely, rubbing himself a little harder. Almost absentmindedly, Victor flicked the cap off and squirted out a generous dollop. And then, he touched him. Slow and purposefully, starting with the base, moving on to the shaft. Caressing and rubbing, enjoying the reaction he felt in his palm. The throbbing, the ever increasing hardness, the way Yuuri told him he was ready without using words. His body reacting to his touch alone.

And finally, the tip. Which produced a flinch at first from Yuuri, but quickly turned into a shriek. One Victor never heard before, one he felt taken aback by. One that made him able to do nothing but stare as Yuuri bared his teeth, started rubbing his now flaccid cock and wailed.

"What did you do?! It burns! What the hell did you do?!"

"L-love," Victor replied, not being able to find an explanation nor words, "what?! Tell me what's wrong!"

"It burns!  _Chi-chikushou_! M-my penis! What the hell did you―"

A mutual epiphany if they ever had one, as both their heads turned towards the nightstand. Understanding that they would never put hand sanitizer close to personal lubricant, ever again.

And, naturally, sex became banned from even thinking about. For another week or so.

* * *

**: III :**

To them, a skating season wasn't only St. Petersburg. It could be Marseille, Stockholm, Toronto or Hong Kong. Propelling them across the world, keeping them in their bubble. Where life on the ice came first, and everything on the outside, second. It was a strange way of going about life, true, but the lives of athletes are seldom simple.

Although, summers meant Hasetsu. Where life could slow down, catch up to them. Make them feel like there was a place they could return to, where they could step outside their bubble and see the world for what it was; uncomplicated when being with the one you've given yourself to.

Or, that's what they wished. For as much as the both of them loved Hasetsu, it wasn't uncomplicated. Especially when being with the one you've given yourself to.

For being in Hasetsu, Yuuri's family home, meant a lack of privacy. People coming and going, things asked of them, adjusting to expected behaviour and cultural cues… Needless to say, the level of spontaneity received a blow with every visit. Something that built a frustration in them.

So when they were in Yuuri's room, in Yuuri's narrow bed, they both felt a pull. A need to give, give and give, but oh, it wasn't uncomplicated. Not at all.

"I know you want to," Victor whispered with his head on Yuuri's lap, reaching down to touch Yuuri's feet on the floor. "We can be quick, you know?"

Yuuri straightened up a little, a sign of embarrassment or badly disguised arousal, and started twirling his finger around a strand of Victor's hair.

"Yeah," Yuuri replied, "but I can't… I can't really relax here. We barely fit in my bed, we can't make any noise and it just feels awkward knowing that… that they're down there."

"Mhm?"

"Whenever I hear them downstairs, it's… no, I just can't. It feels wrong. It takes away the… uh..."

"You don't feel as horny, I get it."

"Victor!"

Victor turned around, that quarter of a rotation, and looked into Yuuri's eyes. Stroking Yuuri's jaw with a finger. "It's been close to three weeks, not counting that thing in the bathroom," he said, with a voice full of longing. "So… what do you think?"

A hint of a smile teased the corner of Yuuri's mouth as he looked down at Victor, making Victor mirror him. Making his face explode into an expression of hope, joy and… well, lust.

"So," Yuuri whispered, "how?"

Within the following second, Victor's hands were on the front Yuuri's jeans. Unbuttoning the button, unzipping the fly and then, hooking a finger underneath the waistband of his underwear.

"Honey, you're already hard," came the appreciative coo. "Sit up just like that, okay?"

Yuuri swallowed as he nodded, his eyes mesmerised by Victor's hand reaching down, hidden underneath his underwear. When he felt Victor touch him, take hold of him, he gasped.

"Oh," Victor reprimanded in a loving voice, "I thought you said you couldn't make any noise."

"Don't be mean. I just… I just want you to, now. You know?"

"I know. Sorry, love," Victor mouthed, his face close to Yuuri's crotch.

"Can you begin? Please?"

Victor huffed a laugh then and pulled down the waistband of Yuuri's underwear with one hand, revealing him with the other. And, just like that, Victor took Yuuri into his mouth. With long and slow movements, his lips adding needed friction and his tongue stroking Yuuri carefully, coaxing Yuuri into relinquishing the control.

"Ahh," Yuuri sighed, his hand finding Victor's hair as he closed his eyes, trying to forget about the worries downstairs. Wanting to follow Victor's lead.

"Like that?" Victor asked, his voice distorted and thick due to his mouth's contents. Taking in as much of Yuuri as he could possibly fit, with his tongue making patterns along Yuuri's length.

"Mmm... god, Vityaah…"

So the pressure, friction and speed was upped as they started to work towards their mutual goal. Yuuri's hips delicately flexing with every mouthful Victor took. Victor's hand pressing into the small of Yuuri's back, asking him to thrust harder.

"I'm close, soon, soon, I think I'm coming," Yuuri moaned with a slight inhibition voice, his head tilted back as he tried to breathe and create that tension needed to create a release.

Victor huffed through his nose and made an appreciative sound low in his throat, whilst sucking harder, faster.

"A second, just a second, almost," Yuuri whispered, his hand becoming a fist in Victor's hair. Feeling close to tipping over the edge. Close to losing himself in that fantastic head-first tumble. "Haah, haah, nghh!"

Yuuri lost his footing, but not to the coveted orgasm. On the contrary. He lost his footing due to him hearing the door to his room open, making his mind sharp. Crystal clear. Hypervigilant. When he saw his mother come through the door, the hand in Victor's hair became more like a vice, digging into Victor's shoulder instead.

Victor didn't hear the door, but he felt the fingers digging into him, making him close to grunting in pain. When he heard the footsteps, he froze. Still with his head on Yuuri's lap. With Yuuri's erection deep inside his mouth. With a laugh uncomfortably close, trying to fight its way around the contents inside his mouth. After all, there was a sense of comedy over the situation.

" _Yuuri,"_ Hiroko chirped as she took maybe two steps into the room, " _didn't you hear me knock?"_

" _N-no, I… I'm sorry,"_  he replied truthfully. For that, he was. " _Wh-what_ ―"

Feeling Victor making some kind of movement around him, around the one part he never wanted his mother to see in any kind of context and especially not this, made him bury his fingernails into the shoulder he was gripping too hard already. That did the trick, for Victor, or his mouth, settled.

" _It's dinnertime,"_ Hiroko said, taking half a step back towards the door. " _Oh, and can you wake Vicchan up too? I've made his favorite, we're having katsudon tonight."_

The sound of the door closing couldn't have come soon enough, making them listen to Hiroko's footsteps growing faint. And for good measure, they waited some seconds more, just to make sure. It was almost like they'd deliberated the situation together and come to the same conclusion, for they both released the other at the same time. Yuuri, easing up on the grip around Victor's shoulder and Victor, letting Yuuri's wayward excitement go with an audible slurp.

"I… I can't believe this is really happening. W-we can't go down there. She knows, oh, no, this… this is so embarrassing," Yuuri mumbled into his hands before lowering them, adding a venomous "Why are you laughing?!"

Victor had his face buried into Yuuri's stomach, his roaring laughter muffled by Yuuri's sweater. Upon hearing Yuuri scold him, he tried to simmer down, which he did but not without an effort. Being out of breath and somewhat dewy-eyed as a result.

"I wish I had seen your face," Victor smiled up at Yuuri, holding Yuuri's hands to prevent a bopping on the head. "Must have been priceless. Oh, what did Hiroko say, by the way?"

Yuuri folded himself at the hip, placing his cheek against Victor's forehead with an exasperated sigh. "It's dinner downstairs."

"Perfect timing! What are we having?"

"Katsudon," Yuuri groaned, feeling Victor shift underneath him. Feeling Victor's smiling lips against his flushed skin.

"A second serving would be nice," Victor whispered, planting kisses on Yuuri's cheek. "After all, it is my favorite."

* * *

**: IV :**

When being entirely in his head, Yuuri tends to get flustered, nervous. No matter how much Victor would like it to be different, he has realised that he can't always reach Yuuri and boost his confidence. That bothered him, and made him look for solutions. In truth, Victor knew that Yuuri can't handle alcohol well. One glass easily becomes many, and things, inevitably, happen.

He's an enabler, though. Victor loves Yuuri, and there's definitely a special place in his heart for his fiancé's uninhibited self. Yuuri's drunken persona is different, and that is what makes it an adventure. When drunk, Yuuri is loud. Slightly obnoxious. Very spontaneous and… fuelled by a libido set to eleven.

Of course, the latter is Victor's personal favorite. He gladly admits that too, shamelessly enough. So when the Russian skating federation held their annual pre-season party, Yuuri was Victor's plus one. And Yuuri, being somewhat new to the country, the language, the dos and don'ts, was nervous.

Watching Yuuri made Victor think of things reoccurring. The moon's many phases, the ocean's ebb and flow, the return and passing of seasons… simply put, things you know will happen if given time. So, he stayed close to Yuuri throughout the evening. Topping up his glass every now and then but keeping a close eye on him. Covertly making sure that when Yuuri reached his peak, the coveted eleven, they would already be home. Preferably entwined. Undoubtedly naked.

Victor saw the subtle cues, the changes in his Love and Life. How Yuuri began being more outspoken, suddenly not caring about language barriers and possible misunderstandings. How Yuuri continued with taking his suit jacket off, loosening his tie. How Yuuri did that dance Victor had seen on Japanese TV, the one that was all the rage over there but possibly more aimed at girls no older than fourteen than skaters at a black tie-party.

That's when Victor looked at his watch and decided that they have had enough. With a gentle squeeze around Yuuri's shoulders, he broke up the fifth repetition of the dance, leading Yuuri towards the wardrobe with an arm finding its way around his waist.

"Biktoru," Yuuri slurred as he was trying to make his arms go into the sleeves of his coat, "this was fun!  _Tanoshikatta desu_!"

"I know," Victor smiled, putting on his own coat after helping Yuuri zip up his, "I saw."

"You know what? Know what, Vitya? You are  _my_  coach!"

"I know," Victor replied, "and I love that. So, let's get home."

After waving down a taxi and getting into the backseat, for public transportation wasn't really an option with a rambunctious Yuuri in tow, Victor had Yuuri pushing into him. A hand on his thigh, teeth skimming just above the collar of his shirt, breaths caressing his neck.

"Bikutoru," Yuuri mewled into his ear, the last syllable seemingly never ending, " _shitai._ "

Victor felt a flash of heat, like Yuuri's proposition set him ablaze. He decided to meet him in that, understand where he was.

"Oh," he replied, huffing a muted laugh into Yuuri's hair, "then, what do you want to do?"

"I, I want good, no, make you feel good.  _Nandemo ii._ "

"Anything? Did you say anything, love?" Victor felt his pulse ticking on the side of his neck.

"Yes," Yuuri answered, his hand slowly travelling towards Victor's crotch, "anything."

When they eventually got home, after Victor handing over rubles in a way that made the taxi driver look twice, soft words and tentative touches were long forgotten. Yuuri was rambling now, a mix of slurry Japanese interjections and harsh English commands as they headed towards the sofa. The bedroom felt like unsurmountable journey, one Victor was unwilling to start.

When Yuuri toppled, stumbling face down onto the sofa and ended up with the armrest underneath his hips, Victor had to pace himself. The image of Yuuri, with his head low and ass high, made Victor shudder. Made him picture what they would do together, what he would do to him.

So, Victor joined him, put himself on top of him, whilst trying to reach the button of Yuuri's trousers pressed into the fabric of the sofa. Counterproductive, if anything.

"Okay? It's okay like this?"

" _Un,_ " Yuuri said, trying to turn around underneath Victor's weight, seemingly seeking his mouth. "Okay."

Victor collapsed on Yuuri then, lost in that building anticipation. Lost in that mouth of his that he aligned and tilted, entered with his tongue. The alcohol on Yuuri's breath reminded him though, made him change his plans and made him decide on something just as arousing.

"Baby… can, can I fuck between your thighs? Come on your ass?"

"Anything, anything's fine," Yuuri breathed, delightfully open mouthed.

"Take off your trousers, okay," Victor said as he propped himself up on his arms and pushed himself off the sofa. "I'll go get stuff."

Victor headed into the bathroom first, searched the cabinet under the basin. An annoyance washed over him as he headed for the bedroom, reminding Yuuri to take off his clothes as he passed him. Regrettably, after rummaging around their bed, the heat lube clearly wasn't in his nightstand drawer, not in Yuuri's either. Not in the bag that had remained unpacked since their last trip.

As Victor headed for the kitchen, he threw a glance in Yuuri's direction. Yuuri's wiggling ass acted as a panacea, made him calm down a bit and focus. On the countertop, close to the corner made by the fridge, stood his salvation.

He unscrewed the cap of the bottle of olive oil with one hand whilst trying to undo his belt with the other as he approached the sofa, feeling himself aching. Yearning for release.

But alas, things reoccurring only do so after a period of being gone and much to Victor's regret, their moment had waned.

Yuuri, still with his ass angled up in the air, had fallen asleep. Taken by the the aftermath of being on eleven for a little too long.

With a sigh, Victor put the bottle of olive oil on the coffee table and stroked Yuuri's hair.

"Yuuri? Can you go to bed? You're on the sofa."

Upon receiving nothing but heavy breaths in return, Victor took matters in his own hands, feeling like a puppet master. Twisting and turning his lax fiancé until he could pick him up and carry him to the bedroom.

Standing in the shower, considering an orgasm an absolute necessity and working towards making it so, Victor decided that the joke was on him. He would have to find another way to make Yuuri reach eleven. Without the alcohol. Or at least, a little less.

* * *

**: V :**

When Victor placed his hand at the bend of Yuuri's knee, guiding his legs apart even wider, Yuuri knew that he wouldn't last long. There was something special about that position, being both spooned and filled, that instantly created a tingle inside him. The mere thought of it, how perverted it probably looked from the outside looking in, made Yuuri clench his teeth.

_Not yet._

He tried to go with Victor's rhythm but Victor was eager, thrusting harder from behind with a breathing to match. Those scorching ' _haah-haah'_ exhaled into his ear made Yuuri desperate to try and go inside himself for a second, think about things. Sad things. Like Vicchan, the embarrassing tumble at the Four Continents' exhibition skate, not making it to Japan for his dad's birthday, losing Victor's leather gloves.

It didn't work. Especially not since Victor had hooked his arm around the back of the leg he previously had been holding on to, his hand reaching around to stroke him to an orgasm. Since Victor bit the lobe of his ear, exchanging the ' _haahs'_ for grunting ' _nghs'_  instead. Since that leg of his was just flopping around with every push Victor made.

Victor was close too, but Yuuri decided that he himself would have to hold on, just for a little while longer. It was better with Victor coming first, for he usually relaxed immediately afterwards. If the roles were reversed with Victor coming second, Victor would just continue and the overstimulation would be too much.

So, Yuuri did what he knew he could do in order to make it so. He put one hand on Victor's, the one that was busy stroking him. He tried to tangle the other up in Victor's hair, pulling at the strands he reached. He searched for Victor's mouth with his own, taking the ' _nghs'_ inside. And, finally, he clenched himself around Victor, as hard as he possibly could, whilst moaning a ' _Vitya'_ against Victor's lips.

It never failed.

Yuuri felt Victor tense up, felt him disappear from being attached to his mouth. Victor was panting against his shoulder, his thrusts getting more and more shallow, his arms and hands tightening until he overflowed with a guttural ' _blyad'_  turning into an elongated, booming ' _aah'._

Yuuri continued his own journey with ease. He moved Victor's hand around himself until he took the same path, spilling over their entwined fingers whilst feeling Victor pull himself out of him.

Then, they breathed through it, the wonder of being spent. The fantastical feeling of being incapacitated to a degree that breathing was actually all they could manage. The knowledge that they could share the vulnerability that comes afterwards, and feeling honored being allowed to.

"I love you," Yuuri heard Victor mumble against the back of his neck. "You will end me."

"I love you too," Yuuri replied, pulling Victor's arms tighter around himself. "Do we need to wipe―"

"No," Victor sighed, "later. I need to rest."

So, they did. Felt themselves being caught, ensnared if you will, by the relaxation that can only follow a corporeal release. Drifting further and further into that blissful oblivion, until they fell asleep in each other's arms.

The morning continued and turned into noon, waking them up with sunlight across their eyelids. After exchanging soft greetings and warm smiles, they headed off to the bathroom for something that could only be described as their own personal post-coital routine.

"Victor," Yuuri said, his head slightly tilted back underneath the showerhead, "did you, uh…"

"What?" Victor's back was lathery, he had done a poor job of rinsing off the shower gel.

"Where did you put the condom?"

"What?"

"The condom?"

Victor turned around as he was shampooing his hair. "Didn't I throw it away? In the bin in the bathroom?"

"No, we fell asleep."

"Maybe I did when we got here, then."

"Don't tell me you left in in bed," Yuuri said, blinking the water out of his eyes. "Find it and throw it away. I'll make breakfast."

"How come you always get to do the fun things, huh?" Victor questioned, and put a dollop of shampoo on Yuuri's nose.

"Because you're an idiot, and you've had your fun. Now, take responsibility," Yuuri said in between the kisses he placed on Victor's chest.

After their shower, they parted. Yuuri went off to the kitchen, and Victor to the bedroom in order to do what they expected of each other.

Breakfast became brunch instead with yoghurt and omelette, rye bread and coffee. But, no Victor returned which made Yuuri go to the bedroom to find him.

"I can't find it," Victor declared, standing in a pile of bedclothes. "I've looked everywhere. Changed those too," he pointed.

"You  _really_  need to find it, Victor."

"If you know where to look, then help me," came the the reply, a slight annoyance in Victor's voice.

And so, finding the lost protection became a two person affair, with Yuuri looking through the bed and Victor underneath it. Together, they searched through every nook and cranny underneath and in between the mattresses, the floor and the headboard, hoping to strike the proverbial gold. But alas, no such luck.

When they decided to eat their brunch, now consisting of lukewarm yoghurt and cold coffee, an irritation had sparked between them. Yuuri being annoyed with Victor's carelessness, for it had disgusting consequences,and Victor being infuriated with being second-guessed, like he wasn't telling the truth.

"Listen," Victor finally snapped after some of Yuuri's reprimands, putting his cup on the kitchen island, "maybe you need to look inside yourself a bit! You are not without fault, Yuuri."

Yuuri scoffed, "In this case, I am! You were the one wanting to do it like that and I―"

"Liar, you  _begged_ me! What was with the ' _ooh, from behind, Vitya_ ', huh? Huh, Yuuri?"

Yuuri felt his cheeks become heated. He had forgotten, consciously or subconsciously, about that small detail. Maybe he had to take into account that the blame could be shared, look inside himself and―

"No. No, no, no, no, no. Please no," Yuuri exclaimed, standing up. Feeling his heart race, his face combusting of possible embarrassment. Feeling his entire being needing to disappear.

"That's what happened," Victor replied tartly whilst licking his spoon clean. But his demeanor changed when he saw Yuuri, how affected he was from his revelation, and that made him pose the question. "Oh… what's wrong? I'm sorr―"

"Victor… are… a-are you sure you… um…"

"Love, what's wrong?"

Yuuri breathed. Like the repetitive inhales and exhales would grant him some kind of courage, but doing so only made him more anxious, more riled up.

"Hey…" Victor was standing up now, heading his way. Adding to the humiliation.

So Yuuri just decided to say it, to be done with it. Which he did whilst wanting to sink through the floor. "Are you sure you had it on you?! When you pulled out?!"

Victor froze, just for a second, before he put a finger to his lips. Thinking. And when he connected the dots, with his eyes narrowing into a smile, Yuuri wanted to cease existing.

Not before long, they found themselves in the bathroom again. Yuuri, semi-reclining on the toilet seat with his face buried into his hands and Victor, smiling and being reassuring with a finger buried into Yuuri. And just like that, they didn't have to look any further. Not more than, say, seven centimetres in.


	2. +1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The smutty conclusion, and it's right, so right :)
> 
> Thanks so much for reading!

The anger that flared up between them is sustained throughout the evening. Even though they don't say anything, for it really doesn't matter if things are said or not when everything unspoken rings loud and clear, they can still feel it. The palpable annoyance that have followed them like an entity on its own.

Normally, their arguments are just like them, passionate, direct and quick. Like a storm more than anything else, but today's different. Today festers inside them, does u-turns and retakes, makes them whipped by something as silly as pride. Makes them stick to what's previously been harshly shared between them, makes them treat it as law despite they, deep down inside, know that truth conquers law.

For that's how it is when being in love, when feelings inside become too much to bear when you realise that you're not being met by the other. When said feelings take another expression when words, uttered or not, just aren't enough to get a point across. When injustice makes you unjust, you end up with silence, one that compulsively forces you to stand your ground until given the chance, or reason, more like, to soften.

It's almost like a dare, how they remain side by side in bed. How they pretend like nothing is the matter, like everything that's been said and done was reasonable beyond compare. How they don't touch but still can feel the other, painfully close but so out of reach. How giving in would create a winner and a loser. It's almost like a dare, how Yuuri turns the pages of his book and allows the dry sound of pages, rubbing against each other, to do his bidding.

But, Victor realises, it's almost like a dare how he behaves too. How he shifts in bed, how he reaches over to grab nothing at his nightstand time and time again, and how that makes the rearrangement of his weight rock Yuuri back and forth on his side of the mattress. Constantly reminding Yuuri, no, telling him that he's there too. That his presence is something Yuuri can't disregard, something he's not allowed to forget.

For some reason that Victor doesn't understand, it's Yuuri who breaks the silence. Not by the low and grating hiss of paper, but with words. "Uncomfortable?" Yuuri asks, and one might think that it's a peace offering finally uttered, but Victor knows that the tone of Yuuri's voice is just as grating, as hissing as the sound of the flipping pages. Yuuri still stands his ground.

"No," Victor replies, flippant and close to glib, his eyes briefly shadowing over Yuuri's figure in the periphery of what he can see without turning his head. But Yuuri is still hiding behind that book, is still showing a tremendous stamina and a pigheadedness. Like in everything he does.

"Lie still, then," comes the reply as another page is turned, as Yuuri shifts a bit himself and pulls himself up ever so slightly. He does so, makes almost invisible movements in bursts until he rests with his back against the headboard, his knees slightly bent and feet firmly placed on the mattress. Oh, so stubborn they both are.

Victor has to distract himself, maybe bite his cheek or let his tongue count the number of teeth in his mouth, in order not to laugh. But on the inside, he does. Inside, he lets out a hearty, belly-aching laugh because he knows that Yuuri just lost. By moving the way he did, by changing position so that he can't be affected by movements around him, by finally acknowledging that Victor is, indeed, there. And knowing that, knowing that he has pierced through that defense he now knows Yuuri agrees to be faulty, his own exasperation just melts away.

Gone is the frustration from earlier, of being scolded like a child in front of everyone. Gone is the frustration that translated into an insatiable need for perfection on the ice when the student in him wouldn't let go, wouldn't allow the coach that's also in him to act professional. Gone are the constant 'again, no that's not right, _again'_ , the 'you do it until you get it right', the 'why the hell aren't you doing what I tell you to', and finally, the 'that's it, lesson's over'.

And, as the edge of unfair resentment gets dulled inside him, the door opens for something else. It's not quite a bad conscience but not far from it, although it takes a playful turn. A challenging turn, if anything.

Victor feels how Yuuri tenses up. It's like he can't decide if he's being tested or not, if he has to ward himself or not, if he has to make a counter-strike or not. Nevertheless, the tension is there when Victor puts his pillow between Yuuri's legs and puts his head on it. Feeling the warmth of Yuuri's thighs frame his face.

The page that turns could be either a display of an impeccable self control or just a ruse, a panicked reaction towards his surprise. Victor knows that, but he bides his time until he hears another page being turned. And another. And another. Then, he touches him.

It's barely a touch, truth be told. The way his knuckle ghosts past the skin on the inside of Yuuri's thigh. The way their heat is shared between them through that heartbeat of a touch, in that connection wanting to be made and actually _is_ , created right then and there. The way he feels a spark by that touch that, seconds later, engages his whole being.

It's barely a touch but Yuuri flinches. Yuuri, always so receptive and tuned to him, feeling his energy like it was his own. Yuuri, always trying to be in control, always so beautiful in the restraints made by himself when conflict rides him winded. Yuuri, Yuuri, Yuuㅡ

Another page is turned, sounding mockingly defiant in the silence.

Victor huffs a laugh through his nose. It's so obvious, really, so obvious that it becomes amusing. The power struggle, the need to be the one that has the last say, the blatantly obvious discord between them just turned into something else.

Yuuri hasn't lost, for it has turned into a game. For two, no doubt, but with rules still in the making.

So, when Victor tries to find out, with fingertips resting against the inside of Yuuri's thigh, his tongue tasting the warm and delicate skin, he feels the almost invisible motion. That of legs being spread apart, ever so slightly.

He reasons with himself that words are unwanted here. They would take away what they have managed to restore by being absent. After all, a conversation isn't about words. It's easy to forget that an argument is all about them, but a real heart-to-heart is about… well, everything else. Body language, intonation, facial expressions. Breaths, looks, touches. What you decide to _do_ in a exact moment in time, as an answer to what you in turn were previously offered. Not at all about what you _say_.

Yes, words are not welcome here, not until they really have to make sure.

He nips the inside of Yuuri's thigh. Puts small pieces of skin in between his teeth and lets go, licks to soothe and nips anew. This time, the reaction is something he hears rather than feels, for the thud of the book being put on top of the mattress is so soft that it could have been disregarded for something else, anything else. And now, now that he has Yuuri's undivided attention, he stops.

He stops and breathes. Offers Yuuri to make a move, because it's obvious that he wants to play. The pillow Victor's resting his head on can only conceal so much, but it's there. Yuuri's reaction to him, the just reward for allowing being played with.

The touch makes him forget about all about breathing. The way Yuuri's fingers slide across his collar bones, making the same journey time and time again. Starting from the outside, working their way in, ending at the dip in his throat with a caressing kind of flick. Feathery light, barely there. Teasing, in the same way he tested Yuuri before.

Victor revels in that, the touch. The endless repetitions that tickle him, makes his skin react with a shiver and the uncountable bumps that naturally follow. His breathing suddenly kick starts with a gasp when Yuuri has one hand in his hair and the other flush against his chest. It's slightly embarrassing, knowing that his reactions are picked up by Yuuri's palm, like it's an unhindered highway of information. The way his heart tattles and tells everything Yuuri could possibly want to know by beating harder, faster against that hand placed on top of him. And for once, he might be the one who's flustered.

"What are you doing?" he hears Yuuri whisper, and he's not sure if he's being scolded or teased. Maybe, it's a little bit of both. He can not only hear, but feel Yuuri's smile through his somewhat stern words while the hand in his hair fists and firmly pulls.

"Nothing," he replies, trying to make that tell-tale heart of his to stop betraying him with its crazy accelerated beats by slowly exhaling through his mouth. That's when he realises that his head is being tilted back.

Victor wants to look him in the eyes, but at the same time, he's afraid to. What if the magic evaporates between them, what if this moment won't be anything more than something fleeting, shared in passing due to the frustration built? And, oh, to be left like this… this needy, this wanting. Yearning for a continuation in finitum.

But their eyes do meet. His blue accepting Yuuri's brown from above without blinking, as Yuuri removes his glasses. And in that moment, with brown barely moving, just caressing, silently taking blue in, Victor forgets. Victor forgets and marvels when being looked down at and into, when being read like an open book. For those few seconds, for there can't be more than a few even though it feels like time stands still, there's nothing but them.

"Yuuㅡ", Victor begins, cut short by his head falling down onto the mattress, the warmth of Yuuri gone. It takes him a second to understand, to take in that Yuuri has ensnared him, played him, and how incredibly cruel it is. Ruthless, even, to be left like that. To be left with an insatiable… itch.

Just as the surprise of being teased, promised and left starts to wane, morph into something that almost resembles the annoyance from before with a tearing arousal on top, Victor finds him surprised again. He doesn't understand at first since his body reacts before his mind does, but he is left with a dry mouth and a throbbing erection as he frantically tries to piece together what just happened.

The way Yuuri close to slithers down his body, giving him a perfect view of his boxer-clad crotch, makes Victor understand that, yes, he had that, _all of that_ , in his face a few seconds ago. With that realisation, Victor moans.

That moan becomes a low, elongated cry as he feels Yuuri settle next to him. The way Yuuri's hands are touching him, his waist, his hips, his thighs, sends more unspoken promises through his body. Like electric currents they are, those touches, making him hold on to the sheets in self preservation. Makes his hips act disconnected from his mind when they seek out Yuuri's hands, needing the undoing only they can provide.

But Yuuri's cruel, or at least, taking his time. The caresses are teamed up with lips, and Yuuri kisses, bites and licks where his hands won't go. Where Yuuri's hands won't go, his mouth is definitely welcome, but it seems like he acts oblivious to the fact. For he keeps himself shy of being where it really counts, delivering kisses and cold trails of saliva close but... not enough.

Victor clenches his jaw, wondering if he should say something or not, instruct that defiant student of his. He swallows, thinking that he needs to wet his parched mouth, throat and dry lips in order to be able to say something, anything, but to his relief, he finds it to be unnecessary. Yuuri's hands finally touch him on the outside of his underwear. It's almost a hovering touch, two fingertips or so brushing against his scrotum, but it's there. The move Victor's been waiting for Yuuri to make.

The gasp is followed by an involuntary shudder when he feels Yuuri angle his leg with a hand guiding the back of his knee, when he feels Yuuri put his cheek on the inside of his thigh. When he feels Yuuri play with the waistband of his underwear.

Victor's hand is there without him so much as thinking about moving it. He can help, he really can, but Yuuri firmly grabs hold of his wrist and guides it somewhere else, somewhere above waist level.

"Stay," Yuuri commands, and it really is a command that leaves his lips. It's firm, unrelenting, sharp, and as soon as it's gone, so is the grip around Victor's wrist.

Of course, Victor's heart starts to race by hearing that. He's nothing but a man, a man crazy about being told what to do and immediately, the blood that travels downwards through his body makes him hard, ready, dripping with excitement, yearning and expectancy. Victor feels like this is the time it would be acceptable to beg, to make himself small and insignificant in order to make Yuuri do his best, worst, whatever. He just needs him to do _something_ and in that moment of time, Victor is far from proud, far from being stubborn and unfair.

"Shh," he hears Yuuri whisper like he's read his mind, still playing with the waistband of the underwear that really illustrates the divide between salvation and damnation. But Yuuri, oh, that tease, that wonderful fucking tease accompanies the sound with a touch of a toe against his lips and Victor knows that he's lost.

Lost in him, lost to him. What a wonderful place to be.

In Victor's head, his thoughts becomes a flash flood of words, of English, French and Russian. _Baby, prends-moi, love, milyy, please, je bande pour toi, now, solnyshko, cheri, dorogoi, vite,_ they just flap around but nothing, absolutely nothing comes out. Not until Yuuri reaches down, takes him in his hand and frees him.

Victor reacts by arching his back, by digging his fingers into the sheets, by producing a farrago of sounds that doesn't sound like anything comprehensive in any of the languages he knows. But, when Yuuri's lips tighten around him, when he tries to glance down and sees himself disappear into Yuuri's mouth, a mewling, crying _blyad_ echoes in between the walls of the bedroom.

He hears Yuuri hum a little, feels the vibrations resonate inside him before Yuuri lets him go with a perverse sound. A sound sounding slick, full, messy. Wet and full of carnal lust.

"Shh," Yuuri reminds him again, taking his cheek off Victor's thigh just to give him a stern look before the cycle starts anew. Before he downs him, adds pressure and friction whilst taking it slow.

"I-I can't, pause, please, stop," Victor manages to whine, suddenly feeling Yuuri's foot bracing, digging into his side. The slightly cool toes playing against his ribs. "I-it's too soon, wait! I don't want to come!"

Lucky for him, his student usually does what he's told. This time is no exception, and Victor finds his wish is fulfilled with a sigh and a slurp.

"Wh-what the f-fu…", he manages to utter in between his panting breaths, "Yu-Yuuri, wh…"

But Yuuri doesn't respond. He just looks at him, silently, and puts his foot on that close to that fluttering, close to flatlining heart. Draws invisible patterns with a couple of fingers on the inside of his thigh.

Victor realises that Yuuri's on the prowl, patiently waiting until he can finish what has been started. In a way, doing what he's told. Imagine that.

"Do-do you know," Victor says whilst trying both to breathe and swallow at the same time, "how fucking h-hot you are? Huh?!"

Yuuri sighs and breaks the eye contact, looking at something to the side. Still drawing those invisible patterns on the inside of Victor's thigh, still with his foot placed on top of that heart filled to the brim with everything it could ever contain.

"Don't talk," Yuuri finally says, glancing at Victor from the corner of his eye. "I've had enough of you for today."

Victor knows that it's true, that he has overstepped boundaries and has been standing too close to many bridges, match in hand. So, instead of saying anything, instead of potentially making it worse, he puts his hand on Yuuri's foot and rubs it a little with his thumb. He's careful, trying to stay clear of bruises and blisters but still intent on showing that he can, and will, be a student too. For there are things to be taught about each other still, and for that, he's eternally grateful.

"You still..." Yuuri's unfinished question hangs in the air as those pattern-drawing fingers inch closer, closer to the desire that have faded some, become just a little less rigid.

"Yes," Victor whispers as he pulls Yuuri's foot to his lips by the ankle, kissing a few of the toes, "please. It… it won't take long."

For a reason unknown to Victor, Yuuri smiles at the comment. He smiles, and meets his gaze before tentative fingers seek out what Victor desperately needs him to touch, to hold, to rouse.

This time, it starts a little differently. Somewhat slower, but more deliberate. With eyes not looking away, wanting to see every reaction as actions are done to the other. With hands touching more, needing the sparks created between fingertips and skin. With the both of them more calibrated to each other, working together by taking advantage of everything they have to offer each other.

And yes, it doesn't take long. For as earth shattering surprises are with their actions unprepared, intentional and conscious acts offer so much more. And, not before long, Victor finds himself panting against the sole of Yuuri's foot as Yuuri loves him in return with tongue and lips, with warm exhales and strokes, with eyes smiling whenever they manage to catch Victor's gaze.

But to Victor, there's something missing still. The moment they share can be more, so much more. Although he's balancing closer and closer to the edge, he knows that he must offer the same to Yuuri before he falls. It's only fair, considering how he's been treating him. With one hand around Yuuri's ankle and the other trying to find leverage around the back of Yuuri's knee, he pulls him closer.

It doesn't matter that Yuuri loses his footing, the way his lips slips off Victor's tip and greedily tries to reach it again, for it gives Victor just enough time to angle Yuuri's leg in the same way Yuuri angled his. It gives him just enough time to caress Yuuri's boxers down so that he becomes bare. It gives him just enough time to caress, lick and playfully nip at the delicate skin underneath Yuuri's hardening erection, making him just as yearning, just as insatiable. Just as lost.

And together, with hands trying to remain on the hips of the other in order to create a rhythm and mouths offering the sweetest demise, they bring each other closer with every push and pull.

It's Yuuri who falls first, makes that headfirst tumble into blissful oblivion with fingers digging into Victor's hip and thigh. The sound he makes is fantastic to Victor's ears, the way his euphoria wants to come out of him but is hindered by Victor, still in his mouth. That guttural, obscene noise that is a combination of lust both being offered and received.

Victor feels Yuuri's mouth shift around him, how he now is more against Yuuri's cheek than his tongue and how the pressure is unraveling. But, the taste of Yuuri in his mouth as Yuuri pulls out, the frantic breaths that smothers his thigh, the feeling of Yuuri being completely lax and loose against and around him makes him follow Yuuri's lead. With two, maybe three thrusts, he comes, emptying himself between Yuuri's lips while his teeth gently sinks into the flesh of Yuuri's hip.

They remain just so, breathing hard, heads on the thigh of the other. As they start to find their way back, follow the small traces back into their bodies, back into their bedroom, back to St. Petersburg, it's Yuuri who breaks the quiet.

"Victor," Yuuri whispers, as he makes one final effort by heaving and somewhat rolling himself to rest head by head at Victor's side with a grunt, "what was that?"

As he exhales, eyes closed and thinking about what to answer, Victor can still feel the metallic and salty taste of Yuuri still on his lips. He can feel Yuuri brush away sweaty strands from his forehead with vibrating fingers. He can feel his heart still beating fast, making him feel on fire and spent.

"No," he finally sighs, trying to coax his jellified arms to move, to pull Yuuri close, "tomorrow."

"Hm?"

"You've had enough of me for today."

With those words, Victor feels Yuuri settle with an amused huff. Burrowing into him, breathing slower and heavier once he allows himself to be lead by the exhaustion following a lover's high.

 _You know what, love,_ Victor thinks to himself, trying to open his eyes in order to have Yuuri's image as the last thing stuck on his retinas before heading down the same path, _I'll never have enough of you._

 

**_~the end~_ **


End file.
